Gracie Hale, the youngest Hale
child, just wanted to finish her
sophomore year in peace. But
that all changes when Scott
McCall becomes a werewolf.
Disclaimer: Be aware of mature
language and violence.
( 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘧: 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦...
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˗ˏˋ⋆ H E A V E N L Y ⋆ˎˊ˗ ↳ 𝒙𝒙𝒊𝒗. 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒍 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘧, 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦
(𝔉𝔬𝔯𝔪𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶)
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EVEN WITHOUT STILES, BEACON HILLS HAD STILL WON THE QUARTERFINALS. After Peter and Derek went to Scott, the alpha explained why he had been killing people, going after everyone who was connected to the fire. Knowing that, Scott was trying to keep everyone safe. But, in usual fashion, things got worse.
Stiles and Gracie, who had snuck in when all the guys had left, had been hovering near his locker in the locker room, watching as Scott and Coach had a private, yet very loud, conversation in front of his office.
"What do you mean, I can't go to the formal?" Scott asked, waving around his hands as he started to get upset.
"McCall, you're failing my class and two others," Coach explained. "They told me to cut you from the team. I told them I'd sooner cut off my last remaining testicle than cut my best player."
"S-so the compromise is I can't go to the dance?" Scott asked in disbelief, still a little disgusted by Coach's "last-remaining-testicle" quip.
"Yeah."
Scott narrowed his eyes at him. "Then I quit the team."
Coach laughed. "No, you don't. And if you show up at the dance and I see you there, I'm gonna drag you out by your teeth."
"So, what are you gonna do?" Gracie asked when Coach finally left.
"I have another plan," Scott said looking at Jackson, who was standing by his locker minding his own business.
"You," Jackson pointed to Scott, blinking a few times when he told him what he wanted. The Whittemore boy pointed back to himself. "...want me to take her to the formal."
"I don't want you to," Scott corrected. "I need you to."
"Screw you," Jackson spat, letting out a scoff and looking back at Stiles. "You know what? Screw you too. In fact, screw each other."
"Hey, you know he saved your life, right?" Gracie reminded him.
"He left me for dead."
"I got shot for you," Scott hissed at him, appalled by the fact that he had the nerve to say that. "Oh, yeah? Show me the bullet wound," Jackson challenged.
"You know it healed."
"Convenient."
"Just do it for Allison, okay?" Scott begged. "She's in serious danger. I'm talking around-the-clock danger. She needs someone to keep an eye on her at the dance."
